


Slow Down Dance

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is normally a huge fan of boobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Down Dance

Dean is normally a huge fan of boobs.

The angel he's currently having sex with being a dude notwithstanding. He's usually all about the boobs.

The boobs he's currently looking at in the mirror are _fantastic_. They're high, adventurous and soft looking and when he turns sideways he gets that awesome curving swell that he's always loved catching a glimpse of.

They're great boobs, they really are, but that isn't the point.

The point is that Dean generally likes his boobs on other people.

But now, thanks to a witch who didn't take kindly to his thoughts on the opposite sex.

Well, now he _is_ the opposite sex.

Sam's currently out trying to make her change him back. Since Dean had immediately done the math and realised he was now entitled to kick her ass. Sam had insisted that wasn't going to help the situation. Dean suspects the thought of suddenly having a sister scares the crap out of him...either that or he's just jealous of Dean's new breasts.

He frowns at himself in the mirror and his freakish new face frowns back.

He's still fairly tall but now there are boobs, and the weird new girl face. Which is, disturbingly, still recognisably him, just a girl-shaped version of him. All soft curves and messy short girl hair that makes him look sort of fierce and...hell, sassy. Yeah, that's whole parallel universe levels of weird. Even taking into account an average day for them.

Ok, he'll admit, girl-version of him is hot, and he has to spend a long moment wondering if that's kind of like admitting that he'd bang his own sister. And, yeah, that's maybe a little bit wrong but he figures under the circumstances he gets a free pass. Under the circumstances.

He's tied a towel round his waist, because you can't exactly stop habits that deeply ingrained. So there's a lot of boob on display. It's really distracting.

"You can come in you know," he mutters into the emptiness of the bathroom.

Castiel must have been listening because the next time Dean looks in the mirror he's hovering behind him.

"Dude, are you afraid of my new boobs?" Dean asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Castiel frowns at him, as if he isn't sure what to say.

"I assumed you would want your privacy," Castiel says carefully

"And you've believed in privacy since when exactly?" Dean asks the mirror, and his new reflection. Then turns around because it's always easier to talk to Cas face to face.

Castiel very obviously doesn't react at all to Dean's refusal to restrain his new breasts.

"The situation is different," he says carefully instead.

"Different, huh? You've barely come near me, it's kind of making me feel contagious," Dean points out.

The angel looks confused, like he hadn't meant to make Dean feel like more of a freak.

"I assumed you wouldn't want me to be so close, while you're -" The sentence comes to a stop and Castiel leaves it hanging there and doesn't finish it.

Dean makes a rude noise, because clearly the angel thinks Dean's afraid of his own boobs.

"Do you want to touch?" Dean can't help asking. It's a flash of reckless amusement the forces the words out of him.

Castiel swallows, seems to be considering his words carefully.

"I'm aware you're uncomfortable -"

"That's not what I asked," Dean says with a shake of his head. Because they've had conversations about Castiel talking his way around giving a straight answer because he thinks it might upset Dean. The conversation mostly being 'stop doing it. "And to be honest I'm getting to the stage where I'm more pissed than uncomfortable."

He grits his teeth on the admission that it feels like someone stole his dick because that's not going to come out sounding completely weird and there are some things you shouldn’t even admit to your weird angel boyfriend.

And he hates that even his own brain calls Castiel his weird angel boyfriend when he's done absolutely everything but admit that in real life.

"I don't feel entitled to anything. Just because we're in a sexual relationship," Castiel says firmly. Like Dean might have worried that Castiel would pressure him into sex. Which is...well that would be a whole other parallel universe entirely.

"Cas," Dean insists.

"I always want to touch you," Castiel says simply, quietly, like it should have been obvious.

Dean makes a noise, something curious, and lifts one of Castiel's hands. It fits round the curve of his left breast surprisingly well. Tanned fingers laid against that surprising pale roundness.

Castiel's eyes drift down as if surprised to find himself so intimately acquainted with Dean's shape-shifted body.

It's an interesting sensation, not exactly arousing, more strange. It's all curiosity and warmth round that new shape. Castiel does nothing but hold it for a long second, as if he's unsure what he's supposed to be _doing_. And then his hand moves, curious and tentative at the new weight of it. His knuckles drift across the curve with strange interest.

Dean grunts and tugs at his hair, pulls him close and tries out his new mouth. He wants to see if Castiel tastes the same. There's no resistance, and Castiel's hand settles uncertainly on his waist.

Dean would normally have an erection by now. But there's no weight, no heaviness, nothing to shove greedily against the angel. It's all different, it's a low shivery ache that feels wet and needy instead. God it's a want Dean could fill so easily. If he was brave enough, if he was recklessly stupid enough.

He tugs at the towel until it drops, finds where Castiel's fingers are still trailing curiously over his new breast and he draws them away, draws them down and _in_ between his legs.

There's an inhale against his mouth, sharp and surprised. But Dean keeps pushing, lets Castiel find where he wants him, where he's leading him.

Castiel's fingers are warm and they slide in easy, a shivery slow push where he's wet and Dean hitches a breath and rocks into them like it's just that easy to learn.

He thinks maybe he knows why that's good, and Dean thinks maybe he wants it too, that maybe he just wants to try it. He wants to feel the solid, heavy, too-hard push of Castiel where he's never had it before. Fuck the shiver of quick-bright fear that goes through him about how vulnerable that will make him. It's not like Cas hasn't fucked him before.

His hands are moving ahead of his brain, dragging Castiel's shirt out of his pants in quick, jerky movements.

"Dean," Castiel manages breathlessly, almost a protest, but there's that uncertain, stunned little shiver in his voice. That tells Dean he wants just as badly.

Either way Dean's already pulling his belt open, dragging the buckle aside with shaking hands and pushing his pants over his hips.

He knows damn well he's letting pure, fierce want drown out the quiet hysteria that wants to know what the fuck he thinks he's doing. But he's already sliding a hand inside the angel's boxer shorts, then sliding them down. Castiel makes a noise under his touch like he wasn't expecting it.

"You want that, Cas? Want to see what it's like to fuck a girl?"

He gets a little explosion of air against his mouth, which he's going to take as a yes.

Dean definitely notices that his hands are different now. Notices because Castiel is already stiff under the grasp of his smaller fingers, already sticky where he's trailing pre-come. When Dean slip-slides his thumb there Castiel's mouth stops being careful and becomes hungry instead. Because if there's one thing Dean's learned it's that Castiel is shamelessly easy to distract. He just doesn’t have any resistance to this. Doesn't have any resistance to what Dean wants, even when he knows it's probably a fucking crazy idea.

"Come on," Dean insists, pushing Castiel's shirt up and tugging him forward. Until he's close to the sink, waist between Dean's soft inner thighs. He's making rough noises into Dean's mouth and it's stupidly, recklessly easy to spread his legs wider.

There's no lengthy prep, no need to use lube. Castiel is just there, pushing, too easy, too quick. One hard wet slide -

Oh God.

Dean digs his fingers into Castiel's waist, stills him, because he's not ready, not fucking ready for what that feels like. How _much_ it feels like and he's breathing too fast.

Castiel goes very still, as if he realises they've gone somewhere Dean isn't sure he's comfortable with. He takes a breath, tries to draw back.

"No," Dean catches at his hips and stops him pulling away. "Don't stop." His voice is strange and soft, girl-rough and breathless. It sounds nothing like him. Because this rawness, this openness that he can barely breathe through. He thinks -

The slow careful push back inside thrums all the way through his skin and he can't help the shocked little moan that falls out.

Dean flattens his small, almost delicate, hand on the wall behind him, bare foot slamming into the edge of the bath. He braces himself there and groans because Castiel is all the way in, all the way up inside him. In a way that's new and different and leaves him feeling stretched and open and wrecked.

He needs - God - needs something, something that would maybe be a thrust in his own skin but instead it's a shivery bright edge of need, a clenched fist of want that leaves him shaking and digging his fingers into Castiel's waist. It leaves him begging quietly under his breath.

Castiel is still careful, still uncertain. Dean's not sure if it's because he's new to the whole girl thing too or because he can feel the fact that Dean's still half-lost in the sensation of every push, every slide. That he knows it leaves him feeling helpless and breakable.

He's left scrabbling for something, _anything_ to hang on to and finds Castiel's hand again, warm and firm and strong, fingers still slightly slippery. He tangles their fingers together and pushes down onto him, into him. He's not expecting that to be so good. It's a thud of greedy sensation that shoves him closer to the edge and he tilts his hips, gets friction, gets pressure where he needs it and -

 _Fuck._

Dean feels himself go tight on the first low, deep shudders of orgasm, feels his body give in and tighten and it's good, it's so fucking good.

Oh dear God, it goes on forever, it's like a hard shivery fall where he never wants to hit the ground. He's not even ashamed of the noises he's making, high and tight and stunned.

Castiel catches his waist so hard it almost hurts and his rhythm goes hard and ragged and helpless. Dean's still a shaky mess but he pushes down, encourages Castiel to take what he wants, what he needs.

Castiel's voice is a breathless shiver against his skin of his cheek, a messy confession of love, of apology for how much he wants, how much he needs this. And Dean's never, fucking never, not ruined by how earnest he is, every damn time.

Then there's just one low gasp and fingers dug in Dean's thighs, and Castiel comes. Dean feels every wet shudder, thighs tightening and relaxing round Castiel's hips like they can't help it, because it's dirty and it's good.

His fingers dig in Castiel's hair, hold him while he shakes his way through it.

Eventually Dean's legs go slack and he groans. Like he can't quite believe they did that. Which, okay, he can't, but he's kind of surprised at how good it was.

He kind of feels like he could go again.

...

It occurs to him that he probably can.

  



End file.
